Origin In Pain: Book One
by Ananke
Summary: Tom and Janeway face harsh revelations and stormy emotional seas.
1. Origin In Pain

He hadn't intended to find any letters. Digging through the captains effects to find an emergency  
command code was one thing,looking at her personal memorabalia was another. He wouldn't  
have opened the files had the battered old padd not turned on...had his face not come up on the  
screen. His face? Well, yes. And no. He was eight years old in the first file. Ten in another. More  
held baby shots, teenage shots, graduation poses, first flight captures...prison profiles. She had  
his entire life in stills. Odd, but nothing he was really surprised by. Janeway had a fixation on  
him, he had known that from the beginning, in the most humble and unflattering of manners. She  
had known Owen Paris, god knew how well, and being stuck in the Delta Quadrant with his son  
was entertainment feed for the captain. See how many times he could screw up, how he reacted  
each time she caressed his shoulder, invaded his space, ripped off his pips, humiliated him. She  
was an odd woman. The picture files amused him...the notes attached did not.  
  
Kate-you nearly backed out of the deal. I could see it in your eyes as you looked at him.  
Weakness, Kate-how can you expect to lead with doubt dancing in those brilliant eyes? Look at  
the pictures...see him smiling? He doesn't know the difference between now and then, Kate. This  
is baby Tom's life. He has it all. Stop doubting. Leave it in my hands.-Salutations, Owen Paris.  
  
Then, dated weeks later.  
  
Kate, damn you. Stop. You foolish child...you've finally got the universe cupped in your rebellious  
little hands, and you're pushing it away with both feet. You wanted promotion and power. You  
didn't want us. I'm tired of these tantrums and self-absorbed pity parties-walk away.   
  
He dropped the command code and headed for her ready room. She was on the couch, as usual,  
hands curled around a cup of coffee that she sat down with a clatter as he entered. "Tom? What  
is it?" Any good reason for barging into my ready room unannounced? The demand was clear, if  
unstated.. He thrust the padd into her hands, sitting beside her, successfully using his legs to  
discretely pin her to the couch. "Just a few questions, Captain."  
Her eyes narrowed as she tried to slip away. "They had better be damned good, Lt.  
What is this?" Forgetting about moving, she scanned the padd, face paling faintly. "Where did  
you get these?"  
"You don't put very strong security locks in your quarters, captain." A harsh chuckle.   
"You had no right."  
"I was just retrieving what you asked. How was I to know memos from Owen Paris are  
held as sacred as command codes?"  
"Delete them."   
"Hell no. Thats my life in that padd, captain." He grabbed her chin then, his other hand  
capturing the tangles in her hair, flinty eyes meeting flinty eyes. "The question is, why do you  
have it?"  
She inhaled."Your father sent it all to me. I've just never gotten around to deleting it.  
Why don't you do the honors, Mister Paris?"  
Oh, no, it wasn't about to be that simple. He chuckled, fingers pressing into the skin of  
her neck and face with almost brutal reverance, eyes dancing across her face. Furious,  
indigant...fearful. What the hell did she think he was going to do, molest her? Probably. It was a  
jarring reminder that whatever surface appearances, there were still a lot of people on Voyager  
who distrusted him as much as they had at the beginning of the journey. She took the opportunity  
to jerk out of his grasp, flying off the couch with admirable alacrity, then turning to face him. He  
stood as well, still perplexed, grabbing her arm.  
  
"Did you finish reading it? No? Well, I'll tell you what, Paris. You go read some more and  
do the math...see if you reach any viable conclusions on why I 'abandoned' you. I assure you,  
you have much to learn." Her voice was raspy, blue grey eyes still desperate, fearful, furious. He  
released her and left.  
  
It wasn't until he was back in the safety of his quarters that he realized he still held the  
padd. Running shaky hands through his hair, he continued to peruse it.  
  
Kate- The boy walked today, as unsteady as a damn drunk Ferengi, but he walked. It would be a  
thrill if we could convince him not to play Superman down the bannisters-the kid will either be a  
pilot or dead fifteen years from now, mark my word. Problem is, I'm not sure which. Its been  
nearly three years since you left him with me...the two most excruciating, terrifying, awing years  
of my life. We made the right decision. Tom Paris is headed in exalted directions Tom Janeway  
could never have gone. I'll see to that, Kate. God knows, you're just a kid yourself...you were  
hurt. Carrying Tom for nine months was courageous. Not many victims bother to do it. Brave  
Kate.  
  
He threw up.  
************************************************************************  
  
He managed to completely avoid her for all of two hours. Then she ordered him to the  
ready room.   
"I presume you read it?"  
"Completely." He didn't think he could look at her. Hell, his stomach was still rolling, and  
in Harry's words he looked "green as a sick Vulcan."  
He heard her move towards the windows. "I know you must have questions, thoughts..."  
"Not really. I'm fine, Captain. You deal with abuse and abandonment in pretty much the  
same way." He hoped it hurt her like hell.  
The slap hurt him enough. No avoiding her eyes now. They were furious, cold,  
perplexed, lost. "I did not abandon you."  
"If you can find a scientific term for it I'm willing enough to listen."  
She laughed. A harsh, wracking series of chuckles. "Do you feel better now that you got  
that bit of excess anger out?"  
He flinched. He had been an ass. At a loss, he sat on the couch."I'm sorry. Look...I  
understand why you gave me to him. You were what, eleven or twelve? I was the product of  
rape. I just...you took the trouble and shame of carrying me for nine months, but not the care to  
tell me. What kind of a paradox is that? Did you really ever care?"  
Her shoulders shook with restrained laughter, eyes darkened with pained amusement.  
"Do you honestly think you would be here if I didn't? I pulled you out of that prison because I  
knew it was killing you, Tom. I've been in places like it. They eat away at your soul."  
He just wondered how many years back she had lost hers.  
  
  



	2. Origin In Pain: Book Two

The Next Day  
  
"Captain, is this seat taken?" Polite Paris.  
If looks could kill, she'd have been doing a victory dance.   
He sat down anyhow. "I think we should try to talk about it."   
Brave words. The mess was full, they were elbow to elbow with most of the gossips of the  
ship, and she looked to be in a mood to kill. Pour your heart out to the one person who obviously  
doesn't give a damn, Paris, he chided himself bitterly.   
Half the mess was already gawking and the other half was listening.   
Her smile was distant, grim."I've been able to identify, empathize with you, Tom, because  
you're on the same hellbound road I am. When I signed away my rights to you and Owen took you  
home, I hoped that I was providing you with an avenue to escape that road...obviously not. The more I  
saw of him in the news, the more I saw the change in him-I could only imagine what your home life  
was like. I didn't want to know. He sent me those damned letters every so often...dozens of them over  
the course of your youth. I never read any of them. I knew they would show me that he was hurting  
you, and I wasn't noble enough to face that just yet. He sent holopictures, holovids-I wouldn't watch  
them. I didn't want to see the baby turn into the toddler, the toddler turn into the boy, the boy into the  
young man...I didn't want to see the changes, because they meant I was changing too. I could barely  
tolerate seeing you at the occasional social function. I hate change. I hate missing time, and lack of  
control...and you were very much a symbol of my lack of control..over my life, my body...for years after  
you were born I had nightmares about that hideous, fucked up bastard who raped me. It...changed  
me. Its not your fault, but it still hurts, Tom. Like hell." Slamming the drink down, she left.  
  
The Next Day  
  
"Paris is your son. Who would have ever thought it?" Gently rubbing circles into her shoulders,  
Chakotay surveyed his tense commanding officer in the muted light of her ready room. She sat up,  
rubbing her arms distractedly. Stepping back, he sighed. "Kathryn, are you okay?"  
That pulled her attention away for a moment. "Of course, Commander. Just thinking."  
"Coffee?"  
"Please." A ghost of a wry smile lit her face.   
"I heard you two had quite a confrontation in the mess."  
"Command concern or friendly worry?"  
"A bit of both, actually." He sat.  
She nodded. "This won't affect our working relationship, Chakotay. God knows, we've done the  
old anger and scandel dance before. If nothing else, we have enough dignity to work smoothly  
together."  
"And to live on the same ship together?"  
"I told him I would let him off at the next m class planet if he liked." She laughed briefly,  
sharply, then sobered. "I don't know. I'm not going to try to be his mother. I'm not ready to try. Whether  
he realizes it or not, Tom Paris doesn't need me in his life anymore than I needed him all those years  
ago."  
"You were the one who got him out of Auckland."  
"I was also the one who put him in the brig for thirty days. When I took him out of Auckland I  
was anticipating a short mission, then he would walk away...no strings attached, emotional or  
otherwise. Instead I ended up hauling him to the Delta Quadrant with me...and all of our emotional  
baggage too. I had hoped the truth would stay unknown until we reached home. Until I could walk  
away again." A bitter laugh, staring down at trembling hands. "Maybe I haven't changed so much after  
all. Walking away is still the easy thing to do when Tom is concerned. Shutting the issues up in a nice  
neat box and pretending it never happened. Running scared. I could face down any panel of aliens or  
Admirals fate throws at me, Chakotay-I could ram a knife through Tom's father...whoever the hell it is  
without flinching-but when it comes to that damned pilot-" She fingered the coffee cup, face taunt.  
"This will stay between myself, you, Tom, and the Doctor-damn his DNA scans-I'm not ready to be a  
mother, Chakotay. Not to him."  
"Kathryn." His voice was quiet, eyes probing, as he paused in the doorway. "Just what do you  
think you have been to him for the past seven years?"  
  
He was stalking her. Great. Lifting her coffee mug to her lips, Kathryn Janeway stared out the  
mess observation ports, mind focusing on the man who was sliding into the seat beside her. She  
considered a few choice comments, erased them, and sat the cup down, sweeping around to face her  
helmsman. So he had been trailing her throughout the ship for over two hours. So he was supposed to  
be on duty. She could be civil. "Mister Paris."  
"I've always hated that surname, you know." He smiled playfully, eyes grim.  
"I'm afraid that I don't do name changes, unless you've decided to reverse tradition and take  
B'Elanna's."  
A short laugh. "You'll never admit it to them, will you? This will always be our dirty little secret.  
The problem isn't your hesitation at accepting the responsibility of parentage. The problem is that  
you've already been experimenting on it with the crew of Voyager for seven years...and failed  
miserably. You don't have it in you to be anything but the captain. You must have dismissed all those  
non-officer traits along with those nasty rape memories."  
She battened down the emotional hatches, swallowing. "You could tell them, Tom. I don't  
have a muzzle of any sort on you."  
"I could tell them. Coming from your lips, it might be pitiable revelation. Coming from mine, it  
would be cheap retribution. Sorry, Captain. I'm tired of being Tom Paris, but I'm even more sick of  
being the bad guy."  
Weren't they all. Standing, she glanced down at him briefly. "Next corner I see you around will  
be the last, Lt. You can walk all the circles you like in the brig. Unfortunately, I won't be there to fill out  
the scenario."  
  
The bridge was dead quiet. Maybe her mood was wearing off. Shifting in her seat, the captain  
released a tiny sigh that echoed explosively in the room, causing Kim to flinch and Chakotay to cock a  
brow. Somewhere in the corner of her eye, she saw Paris' shoulders shift with laughter and focused  
the death glare on him. Chakotay intercepted, clearing his throat. She shifted again. Paris coughed.  
She slammed her padd down. That was it. "Lt. Paris, you will pull up your personal records and leave  
them for display to general access, then kindly escort yourself to the brig for the remainder of the day."  
He stood, straightening. "Hell, captain, I COUGHED."  
"This moment."   
"Yes, ma'am, mother." He headed of the bridge, glaring. She swallowed, saw that the rest of  
them, minus Chakotay, had taken the sarcastic address as just that...sarcasm. Damn him.   
"Why don't you try to get some rest?" Chakotay suggested, leaning over.  
She ignored the politely phrased order, voice just loud enough to reach his ears and no  
others. "It isn't going to go away, is it?"  
"He's tenacious, if nothing else."  
"I don't want to hurt him." Her voice was distant, earnest. "He doesn't get it, Chakotay.  
Revealing his origins won't help him. This crew doesn't want to know that Tom Paris, royal screw-up, is  
the son of Kathryn Janeway, royal bitch. Its not just him, either. What about Torres and the baby?  
Shouldn't they figure in on the final decision?"  
"Should have." He regarded her tolerantly. "Unfortunately, Paris just followed orders and put  
his entire life's story on ship wide padd broadcast. Get ready for a late baby shower. Try to be nice and  
send him a piece of cake in the brig."  
  
He hated the brig. He had seen it coming, of course. Janeway...well, she was the type of  
woman you could only push so far before she shoved you out an airlock or into a dark hole. He wasn't  
sure which was worse, but at least the brig allowed for breathing. He wasn't sure which was worse, the  
fact that she had thought he was deliberately pushing the boundaries or the fact that it had been an  
honest to god cough. Lots of them actually. And he didn't feel so well. trying his com badge, he  
wheezed again. "Doc? I'm..."  
  
"My, my, you don't look so well." Cocking his head, the Doctor leaned over the biobed. "Mister  
Paris, either this is the best case of brig skipping I've seen yet or you need your mother."  
He would rip the damned holomarix apart...after a nap. Leaning back, Tom grabbed for  
leverage as the world spun...and when it all finally straightened out he was grasping a four-pipped  
commander with a death grip. "Oh, boy."  
Janeway looked amused, concerned, and annoyed. "I think lying down would be a good idea,  
Lt."  
He agreed, carefully falling backwards. "Whats wrong with me?"  
"Stress, a bit of a flu, a lot of stress." The Doctor recited.  
"Its her fault." Came the faintly resentful response.  
"Why don't we get you back to your quarters before B'Elanna storms sickbay?" Chakotay  
suggested diplomatically.  
  
He awoke to heaven. Well, as close as one could get on a starship. Slipping out of bed and  
absently noting that he was in sweats and a tee, tom headed for the outer living area, following the  
smell of coffee and breakfast. Absolutely great, he would have to be especially nice to...  
The captain.  
He considered heading back to bed, b she turned, command red and vlack, brandishing a a  
a spatula and waving it over the ministove. "B'Elanna has emergency duty, I suspected that you might  
not be up to replication and loneliness."  
"The captain making me breakfast." He put light mockery into his tones, falling onto the sofa  
as a wave of nausea hit. "Is it that bad?"  
"You were a baby's breath from a massive stress-induced heart attack. I like to push, Tom, but  
god damn you, if you ever let me push you that far again..." The thin control in her voice shattered.  
He swallowed. Near death was bad enough to deal with, a weeping captain...no, mother, hell,  
both...was another. Finally, he stood, removing the spatula firm her grasp and enfolding the trembling  
hands in his own. "Truce, captain?"  
She nodded, lips taunt. "Truce." Then, more quietly. "Chakotay interecepted the broadcasts  
before anyone read them...I think we need to go slowly with this, Lt. I want to do it the right way, not  
the angry way. Can we agree on that?"  
He studied her, realized for the first time just how odd it all really was. She had been a kid  
when he was born, barely a teen, and even now, she was young enough. too young to take  
responsibility for someone like him as a mother. She shouldn't have to deal with this, yet did. He would  
have to make it easier. "We can. I should warn you, though, that you nolonger have any excuse not to  
accept my mother's day cards."  
She laughed and smacked him.  
He reveled in heaven.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Origin In Pain: Book Three

The last few days had been, quite simply, hell.  
  
Janeway was sure, damned sure, that half the crew had figured out the truth of one Thomas  
Eugene's birth and the other half was on the way. She should have expected it. The senior staff  
had been told first, after she had found no other viable excuse to give Tuvok for throwing her  
helmsman in the brig for coughing and B'Elanna had demanded to know if Tom was cheating on  
her. Damn nosy Vulcans and hormonal Klingons. With the gossip vine, she had no doubt lower  
decks were beginning to buzz.  
  
She cursed, fluently, mimicing Torres' recent tirade with accentation. At that moment,  
Commander Chakotay chose to appear, brow raised lazily, lips curled in that playboy smile.  
"Problems, Captain?"  
  
She sighed, fingers winding around the coffee mug, lips twitching wryly. "It just struck me that I  
am going to be a grandmother, Commander."  
  
He chuckled richly, dark eyes sparkling as he settled onto the sofa. "If it helps, despite the  
information release, 99% of the crew will be too tactful to mention it. I hold Seven up for the 1%."  
  
"It doesn't help." She propped her head up on her hand, eyes thoughtful. "I've always wanted  
children, even out here. I managed to push it to background...really, the time has long passed.  
Tom..." She frowned. "Its difficult to consider anything yours when you never had the opportunity  
to touch it, feel it, observe it...more so with a person. I distanced myself from him in every  
way...rarely saw him, then only at a formal distance, rarely looked at his holos or news  
reports...even during my tenure working alongside Owen...I refused to hear or see anything to do  
with Tom. I cut myself utterly adrift from him. I suppose thats why I touch him so often now. I'd  
like to bridge that distance that I threw out, but I have to wonder if it isn't too late. I somehow  
doubt we can ever really reach any level of familial intimacy. So, while I have Tom Paris, I've  
never really had a child..."  
  
Chakotay met her gaze thoughtfully. "Why did you carry him for those nine months when  
surragacy or termination were options?"  
  
She laughed softly, bitterly. "A defining question. I'm not sure. Perhaps it was just the  
romanticism of having your belly swell up like a watermelon. Its a status quo at that age, you  
know. You both despise and envy the girls who fall into 'that condition'. They might be cheap  
screwups, but they're grownup screwups by that time. Or maybe I just didn't believe in ripping a  
newly developing life from its nest. I don't recall. It doesn't matter. I didn't choose surragacy or  
termination, and here we are. I just don't know what the hell he expects from me."  
  
"He may just expect you to be yourself." Her first officer remarked pointedly. "Not the captain."  
  
"That, Commander, is a path left long untrodden." The captain admitted, sipping and sighing.  
  
***  
Restless nights be damned. Twisting on the bed and jerking his cover back, Tom Paris sighed.  
Beside him, he heard B'Elanna shift as well, yawning. Then, yelping lightly in surprise, she  
grabbed his hand, insistantly pushing it to rest on her gently rounding stomach. "I felt her move,  
Tom!"  
  
He sat up, hand jerking in surprise, eyes widening in wonder at the barely perceptible shift. "I  
thought it was a bit early for that." The, exuberantly. "She's MOVING!"  
  
The chirp of a com badge interrupted her smothered laughter and kiss.   
  
"Care to report to duty, B'Elanna?"  
  
He was entirely too charmed to be intimidated, and answered for his yawning wife. "Sorry,  
captain, but your gran..." Then, realizing that it was a bridge all com and less enlightened  
crewmembers were there, "Your newest crewmember just moved!"  
  
Dead silence, then a short chuckle. Apparently no one had noticed the slipup, though he was  
willing to bet that Chakotay was giving her a few looks. "All right, I suppose I can make an  
exception. An extra hour...feed that child, B'Elanna, she must be starving."  
  
"Aye, captain." B'Elanna cast him an odd look, brow raising as the link closed. "Gran? I know you  
want her to be involved in the baby's life, Tom, but I hardly think revealing the truth to *everyone*  
before she's ready is the right way to do things..."  
  
***  
  
"It isn't working." Stridin into the captain's ready room in civvies, Tom Paris crossed his arms,  
lips pursed in a mulish frown.  
  
"What would that be?" Janeway shuffled the stack of padds in her hands, not looking up, lips  
twisted in her own brand of distracted annoyance. He hoped it was directed at the workload and  
not him. Then, as an afterthought, she looked up. "Tom, you're under bed rest. *Why* are you  
storming command in civvies?"  
  
"I was bored-"  
  
"Terminal affliction, god help you."  
  
"I'm being serious."  
  
"Very well, continue." She sipped her coffee and waved him on.  
  
He sat down, eying her. "This isn't going to work."  
  
"You covered that earlier. Care to elaborate?"  
  
So she was in a mood today. He shrugged. "How do expect me to elaborate when you interrupt  
with witticisms and make me lose my train of thought?"  
  
She glared. The captain's glare. He straightened, wishing for the dignity of a uniform. "I'm sorry,  
really."  
  
Janeway inhaled, hoping for an influx of patience. "You said you were bored, Lt. Why don't you  
take these padds down to engineering and wheedle some status quos from your wife?"  
  
He brightened faintly, grabbing the padds and leaving as Chakotay reentered. Clearing his  
throat, the first officer nodded towards the closing door. "I'm guessing it wouldn't be advisable to  
order him into proper attire?"  
  
"I couldn't handle the fallout." The captain muttered, and then adding for posterity. "He's such a child..."  
  
"Yours, in fact."  
  
She replicated more coffee.  



	4. Origin In Pain: Book Four

It had *not* been an ideal day for B'Elanna Torres. Pressing a hand to her swelling stomach and releasing a faintly annoyed growl, she strode over to her husband, successfully spinning him around to face her and ripping the padds from his grasp in once swipe. "Bed rest, Tom. Doctor's orders. CAPTAIN'S orders. Pregnant Klingon's orders." Then, rifling through the stack. "I sent these up to her hours ago. Kahless, Tom. You've actually gotten her so desperate to be rid of you that shes making up errands."  
  
He grinned guiltily. "It brought me to you..."  
  
***  
  
"Thats the third pot in an hour."  
  
"I suppose I should quit." Sitting her pot of coffee down with a thunk, Kathryn Janeway took a seat behind her desk.  
  
"You may need more." Standing, Chakotay smiled knowingly. "If you intend to attempt those diplomatic negotiations with the Moirae, you're going to end up having Paris pilot you down to the planet. Rough weather for a shuttle ride."  
  
She inhaled. "We have to negotiate now."  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"What about his alternate?"  
  
"All of the other pilots have been stretched to the limits filling in for him since he went on medical leave. He's the only one rested. Besides, the Doctor feels that he may be developing 'cabin fever'. Taking him with you might actually make him less bothersome."  
  
"One can only hope." She murmered, giving up on the coffee altogether and tapping her com badge. "Janeway to Paris. Get into uniform, Lt, its time for a sickbay field trip."  
  
***  
  
"Ready to go, Captain?" Fingers gliding across the delta flyer panels in delight, Tom Paris offered his companion a brilliant smile.  
  
Like a child with a newly rediscovered toy, she thought with a stifled chuckle, but kept a poker face, putting her equipment in order. "Steady as she goes, Mister Paris."  
  
"I can resume full duty after this, right?" He teased, bouncing lightly in the seat.   
  
"Oh, I don't know. The Doctor wasn't especially thrilled by your escape from bed this morning." She scanned her padd, lips twitching.  
  
"The Chief Engineer wasn't especially thrilled by status report replicas either, ma'am. And when I'm on bed rest, I have to live with her day in, day out. Its all your fault if I become more stressed out..."  
  
Touche. She shifted in her seat, leveling him with a captains glare. "Smooth one, Lt. We'll see. Take us down."  
  
"Going down, aye." He turned back, grinning.  
  
***  
It shouldn't have happened.  
  
He was the best damned pilot in the Delta Quadrant, his captain and his mother was his favored passenger, and there was simply no fucking way Tom Paris could have crashed on such a routine flight, or so he told himself before the flyer hit solid ground and his head snapped back.   
  
Somewhere in the the groan of compromised infostructure echoed, portending disaster. .  
Fighting against a wave of nausea, he jerked out of the pilots seat, nearly falling into a pool of blood and briefly hoping that it was his own and not *hers*. "Captain?!"  
  
Tiny, delightfully strong fingers dug into his hair, pulling his head level to meet furious eyes. "*Sit* down, Paris. You already crashed my shuttle, theres no need to bleed to death on the carpet."  
  
He swallowed a burst of hysterical laughter, falling to the floor shakily and taking a heaving breath. "Whatever you say, ma'am."  
  
***  
  
"Its going to blow." Janeway turned from the main consoles, tone abrupt. "We have to move out. Can you walk?" Not waiting for an answer, she dove around a corner, grabbing a med kit and tricorder.  
  
"I'll give it my best shot." Paris stood, wobbly, and accepted the shoulder she slipped under his arm as they moved through the wreckage. Reaching the door, she kicked at it, and, never a good sign of structural integrity, it caved outward. She pushed him out.  
  
"Not good enough." The captain judged with a tricorder. "RUN."  
  
Easier said than done, but they did clear the horizon and throw themselves behind a sand dune before his flyer...his precious delta flyer...went up in a grand anticlimatical roar.  
  
Falling back on her heels and shaking his arm from her shoulder, Captain Kathryn Janeway stared at her helmsman. "A week away from conn did *that* to your piloting skills?"  
  
  
  
  



	5. Origin In Pain: Book Five

"I thought this planet was inhabited." Holding his sides and grimacing, Tom stared into the dusty, utterly unforgiving landscape before them. An estimated days worth of walking, no rescue craft, no signs of life. He was beginning to actually savor another week or so of bed rest.  
  
"It was." The captain said tersly, motioning for him to sit down for a break and switching to the medical tricorder.  
  
"I'm fine, really."  
  
"You lost a lot of blood...you need liquids." Crouching, Janeway pushed a strand of hair back, scanning him with concentration. "A couple of cracked ribs, gash in the side...concussion. I'm afraid sleep is out of the question-"  
  
"Just how the hell can a planet be inhabited one minute and uninhabited the next?" He  
interrupted.  
  
"There are many unorthodox explanations in the universe, Mister, and I'm not about to sit here and list them off one by one." She said shortly, putting away the tricorder. "You're right, you're fine. We need to keep moving."  
  
***  
  
The darkness, if possible, was far more intimidating than the miles of endless desert. It was, Kathryn Janeway decided, just her luck that she should be stranded upon an apparently and very oddly deserted planet that raged somewhere above a hundred degrees during the day and below zero at night. The com badges had proven worthless long ago, and the tricorder only served to help them escape the bare dangers of stepping into sinkholes or onto predator niches. Tack onto that an incrementally swelling ankle that she staunchly hid and a lagging and alternately hyperactive and sullen Tom Paris, and you had the away mission from hell.   
  
She quit. Well, momentarily, at least.  
  
Flopping down in a nest of particularily loose sand, she flexed her ankle, thankful the darkness hid her uncaptainly wince. Paris groaned, bumping her knee as he too settled down. "Does this mean we get to settle in and die peacefully?"  
  
"I somehow doubt the possibility of that." She said irritably. "I haven't found a way to shut you up  
yet."  
  
He laughed. "Trying to dispel a rotten mood with an even more rotten mood, captain?"  
  
She sighed. "Hows the side?"  
  
"Better than the ankle. If you don't remove that boot, you'll have a permanent limp."  
  
"And here I thought we were going to die peacefully and leave our mortal ailments behind."  
  
"I have a kid to think of, ma'am." He tried snide apology.  
  
"So do I."   
  
He wasn't entirely sure he had heard it, but decided not to press. Still, he grinned, reaching over to unlace the boot and pull it off. "You have holes in your sock, captain."  
  
"I'll put myself on report later." She muttered, lying back. "Go to sleep, Lt. Theres nothing out here to bother us."  
  
"Thats what you think." He waved the tricorder. "I heard a growl."  
  
"There was no growl, Tom."  
  
"The hell there wasn't...captain. I distinctly heard a growl, by your head, but its so damn dark I can't see anything."  
  
"Then how do you know its my head?" She yawned, making a mental note to speak to Chakotay about his rescue and recovery time scores.  
  
No answer.  
  
Sitting up, she squinted, finally making out his vague shadow and hearing rhythmic breathing. Out like a light. Shaking her head, she patted him on the arm, turning back onto her side. Annoying as he was, somehow the deserts seemed quite a bit less lonely when he was around.  
  
A strictly noncaptain observation.  
  
***  
  
The dawn was brilliant. Not something Tom Paris typically had the chance to observe, star bound as he preferred to be. The planet, what was it Naomi had nicknamed it? L'Utopie. Little Utopia. Yeah. Little Utopia had beautiful dawns, even if the rest disappeared without rhyme or reason.  
  
Rolling onto his back, Tom stared up into the sky, enchanted by the brilliantly glittering but never  
quite blinding view the two mirror suns offered.   
  
Finally forcing himself out of his revery, he stood, staring down at the exhausted captain. "I'd like to let you sleep, Mama Kate, but if sunburn isn't bad enough, we have company, and I don't think they want to offer help."  
  
***  
  
Darkness again, but this time a chilling, grimy, bone-aching darkness. Swallowing a grimace, Janeway balanced on her good ankle, staring around the prison camp. No worse than any she'd seen before, but certainly no better.  
  
"I thought this place was uninhabited." Tom moved up beside her, face marked by angry  
scraches and bruises, tones back to snide harshness. He might not be saying what they had done to him, but if this camp was like any of the other morally and sexually depraved ones they had seen, his mother had a pretty damned good idea. Despite the cockiness, humilation practically radiated from him.  
  
She turned away and left him to it, throat constricting..  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Origin In Pain: Book Six

Profound bewilderment.  
  
Tom Paris hated loss of control. It seemed that some things didn't change throughout the universe. Prison camps, beatings, and close sexual encounters of the third kind were apparently among them.  
  
Sliding down to a sitting position against the camp inner wall, he glanced around. Not a big place, this camp, but chalk full of pathos.   
  
Worry knawed at his gut. He was willing to deal with whatever they dished out, but Janeway...damn her infuriating hide, when you went down to the crux, she wasn't made for maltreatment...  
  
No, make that Captain Janeway, a starship captain perfectly capable of taking care of herself or dying in the attempt. She wouldn't want his concern.  
  
None of it made the alternating, not quite muted curses and screams coming from the interrogation cell any easier to bear. Groaning, he buried his head in his hands and wondered where the hell Voyager was.  
  
***  
  
Blood.   
  
Concentrating, Janeway brought her head up from the rocky floor, taking in her surroundings with clarity achieved only through clinical detachment. The cell was dark,no windows, just tiny, pinpoint air shafts. She was curled into a far corner, opposite the door, which was being knocked open.   
  
Drawing her uniform-or what remained-up against her bosom in an automatic nod to modesty, she winced again as familar, but embarassing fingers took hold of her shoulders, wrapping them in a ripped but servicable blanket. Tom's voice was angry. "What the hell have they done?"  
  
Straightening, she squeezed a bit of the captains brusqueness out, pushing his hands away and struggling to her feet on her own. "Nothing worse than what they've done to you. They might've finished breaking the ankle. I'll make do. Report."  
  
He snorted, a clear indication of his feelings for her captains mask. "Nothing to report. We're here, Voyager's not, and I'm formally requesting that you reprimand the living hell out of that laggard that you call a First Offi.."  
  
"Thats quite enough, Lt. I'm well aware of your feelings towards prisons and Chakotay in general, but I'm certain Voyager has an excellent reason for being...late. If not, I'll reprimand the hell out of every damn one of them." She said testily, then chuckled briefly at the insanity of the conversation.  
  
He grumbled, lifting her up against her protests. "Lets get you out to the general area. The guards agreed that a strong, debatably healthy, albeit annoying man like myself will make a much more pleasing target than an already injured woman. They want dinner...and...intimate entertainment afterward."  
  
Her hand snapped around his wrist. "You will NOT, Lt. Paris."  
  
"Sorry, ma'am. Starfleet honor. I have to protect the captain." He helped her into a corner, striding away.  
  
"That was a direct order!"  
  
"I've disobeyed them before."   
  
Damn him.  
  
***  
  
It was long into the alien night before he returned. Shifting to conserve warmth, she reached out as he slumped to the ground silently, reaching for his hands. Clammy, shaky. She closed her eyes. "Don't let them do it again. I'll derank myself and take away your damned excuses."  
  
"Pips don't make a commander." He threw out, almost savagly. "I thought you had figured that much out by now. When we obey you, its because of you, not those damn tacky circles or any Starfleet title, and when we disagree with you, those damn tacky circles and all the Starfleet commendations in the universe are worthless." His tones lowered as he threw her earlier comment back at her. "Besides, its no worse than what they did to you."  
  
"I can ignore the physical abuse, Tom." Her tones were level, dry, bleak. "I've sold my body for ways home, supplies, the lives of crewmen. I can dismiss it as superficial. To you, its more. Its complete emotional rape...it may've kept you alive in other prisons, but here, now, its killing you. I can't allow that."  
  
"As captain or mother?"  
  
"Was there ever a line between the two?"  
  
A raspy laugh. "No, I guess not. I wish there were, and I'm damn sure you know which of the two you were speaking as. But that side of the captain/Kathryn coin will always be the silent minority, won't it, Captain?"  
  
She removed her hands, turning to stare into a nearby fire. "You won't do it again, Mister Paris. As a captain, I am trained to undertake such risks on behalf of my crew and I will not tolerate you undermining training I spent years building up. However little respect you have for those pips, I suggest you dwell a bit more rationally on the wife and daughter who will be left with the fallout of your misplaced heroism. I don't have anyone to leave fallout. As for the mother-son defense...nonexistant relationship. A broken wheel that I don't have time to fix and will not be snagged in. Do you understand me, Lt?"  
  
His reply was stiff. "Aye, ma'am. Receptions never been clearer." 


	7. Author's Note

Ok, guys. I know just about every one who happened to read this has emailed me requests to continue it. I will. I promise. Life has just been busy, net access sketchy at best ,and life, once again, has just been hectic. I'm working on more right now. be patient. Send me ideas in email (kiraananke@hotmail.com or RoseKira@aol.com) Believe me, I need the input. There are a zillion possible ways to go with this, and I'm uncertain as to which you folks would want. Share your wants! 


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